


Blood on the Breeze

by Solrosfalt



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: (this is not a very Rhea-friendly fic bc that's the route we're on), Angst with a Happy Ending, Brief Death Idealization, Catherine Finding Her Place In the World, Cathmir Week, Existential Talks, F/F, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Black Eagles Route, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Survivor Guilt, mercenary moms adopt a baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:14:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23714986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solrosfalt/pseuds/Solrosfalt
Summary: Fhirdiad is on fire, a chaos just like the chaos inside Catherine as she begins to question the ways of her liege. When Shamir spares her a second time, Catherine truly sets her loyalty aside, but that means she has to find a place in a future she'd never imagined.
Relationships: Catherine/Shamir Nevrand
Comments: 10
Kudos: 68
Collections: Cathmir Week 2020





	Blood on the Breeze

**Author's Note:**

> I was so focused on the cathmir aspect of this fic I forgot Cyril wasn't a part of the Golden Deer, but since I spare everyone with a passion I now assume he's alive and well in the former Alliance and in fact not at all part of this battle with Rhea (aka "I was so busy thinking about headcanons I forgot canon exists")

Catherine was driven by hatred. Her heart was filled with a swarm of screams. Her faith was a dark sword used to strike the wicked.

She’d changed from Cassandra to Catherine the moment she’d turned a dear friend over to face the executioner’s axe. She’d turned from the noble life to become an unyielding warrior to the Goddess. A choice, and with that choice she’d thought she’d found herself, but in truth, it was a painful self to be.

It had been a bit less painful partnering with Shamir. Catherine had friends within the knights of Seiros, but Shamir had been so different from them and such a fascinating person Catherine had partnered up with her instantly.

The moment Shamir turned on her though, that hurt so much it lay the groundwork for another pivot into change. Shamir had looked at Catherine with just a hint of pleading in her gaze, her hand on the door, minutes away from walking into treason of the highest order, _pleading_ as if—as if she’d _hoped_ —

Shamir had realized the impossibility and walked alone through that door. A betrayal that cut so impossibly deep, Catherine swore she'd stop at nothing to ensure Rhea's survival.

Without Shamir, Thunder Catherine was nothing but a weak spark, but outwardly, Catherine upheld the image of devout belief. These horrible people – Shamir included – targeted Rhea, wanted her dead. That was unacceptable. Unreasonable. If Catherine had followed Shamir that day, if Catherine had turned on Rhea too, what would her life have been up to that point? A lie? Countless dead for nothing? _Rhea couldn’t be wrong_.

No, Catherine stood strong by her beloved liege. Rumors swarmed about after the incident in the Holy Tomb of Rhea being able to turn into a monster. Catherine didn’t believe in them (they were smearing campaigns, nothing more!) until Rhea stared coldly at her and told her the truth. Yes, she had a beastly form, but it was humans who were the true beasts, and they could only be saved by turning to the Goddess.

Catherine had to believe that. She’d cut down screaming students at the battle for Garreg Mach, she’d been at one with the chaos and had no regrets. She had no regrets. She had no regrets… _None_. All this did was strengthen her conviction that she had to stay with Rhea no matter whose eyes glistened in the dark from the shadows, their arrow pointed to her head.

An arrow that was never let free. For all her talk, Shamir didn’t have the guts to kill her.

Maybe Catherine shouldn’t say anything, though, because she hadn’t sought out to end Shamir, either. A fair trade, for old time’s sake.

“I will not have mercy next time!” Catherine howled into the shadows. She got no answer, but she knew Shamir was listening.

\---

Five years of war, and there had yet to be a ‘ _next time’_. But that point was approaching, and approaching fast. Rhea – or _Seiros_ – had lost her battle of Tailtean Plains. King Dimitri was dead, the Kingdom’s army desolated.

The Empire had yet to face Catherine, though. She held no hesitation in her mind as they prepared Fhirdiad for battle. Below them, the Emperor called for their surrender, promised no more bloodshed if only they lay down their weapons.

Seiros walked briskly by Catherine, her fists clenched at the sound of the Emperor’s voice. Catherine bowed to Seiros, who barely glanced at her. The growl that escaped the saint's lips was not human.

Catherine watched her from beneath her eyelids. Five years of war, and she didn’t recognize her liege. When Catherine had first laid eyes on Rhea’s true identity, her heart had fluttered. Saint _Seiros_ had been amongst them all along, her grace and light bestowed on Fódlan, on _Catherine_. It seemed unbelievable, wonderful, a miracle in the flesh.

The bloodstained lady before her now was no miracle. Her winged crown was lopsided, the lilies in her hair sagged and sad, her face twisted in such deep hatred Catherine’s paled in comparison. Hers was a speck of seagrass in the vast ocean that was Seiros’ raw disgust. An ocean so cruel.

“What are your orders, Lady Seiros?” Catherine asked her. “The Imperial army is calling for our surrender. Is it wise to ignore them? Perhaps we could leave Fódlan and devise another plan...”

“We shall not surrender”, Seiros cried out at her, fangs bared. “We must not lose! Even if it must split the heavens, we shall not yield to the wicked ones!”

Such familiar words, words Catherine had lived and sworn by for most of her life, and yet, from the lips of this woman, it sounded an awful lot like the words of a… of a tyrant.

 _Stop thinking_ , she chided herself. _That’s Imperial brainwashing propaganda!_

“Understood...” Catherine answered, hoped the hesitation did not shine through. “I will do as you command. You have my fealty no matter what, until my last moment of life.”

Yet again, Seiros stared ahead like Catherine didn’t exist, or wasn’t worthy of a gaze. Where was the woman who’d saved her life, given her something to believe in?

“Then set fire to the city”, Seiros said after a mere moment’s thought. “The Imperial army will burn in the flames of eternal torment!”

“What?!” The word blurted out of her before Catherine could stop it—there were still people in Fhirdiad, refugees from all over the Kingdom and farmers and merchants and priests and kids and— “No, you can't do that!”

The look Seiros gave her had ice travel through her bones. “Catherine”, she said without a hint of emotion. “ _Now_.”

“As...as you wish.” Catherine’s tongue felt heavy with the cold, with the impossibility of the words she’d heard. Surely, Rhea wouldn’t… She cared! She healed, she kept balance… This was not… This was not it.

“…But Lady Seiros, is there truly no other way?”

“I have no patience for foolish questions.” Seiros grew half a head in height, her teeth turning pointed and scales creeping up her throat. “I shall sacrifice as many lives as it takes! That apostate who insists on taking everything from me...will be crushed by my own hands!”

Catherine reined back. She couldn’t speak, and Seiros obviously didn’t care if she did or not. Her body kept changing, until the Immaculate One stood before her, her roar causing the entire city to quake.

“Burn it”, the Immaculate One howled. “Burn it all!”

Catherine couldn’t breathe.

She’d met with crying spouses a lot in her days. Spouses that faced execution together with their blaspheming significant other, spouses who’d claimed they’d been dragged into it all, they’d been blinded by love or that they had known no other way… Catherine had never believed them. She’d figured one should be able to recognize right and wrong despite one’s affections.

Now, as Catherine felt the heat on her skin, saw the scramble of Church soldiers heave oils on the insulated roofs and set them on fire, crying out ‘ _for the Goddess!_ ’ and _‘for justice!’_ Catherine’s eyes opened to something ugly and terrifying she’d never seen before. In the midst of heartbreak and confusion, as though a filter was ripped from the rim of her eyelids, she saw the word of Seiros be used to tear the world apart.

‘ _I don’t have a problem with your faith_ ’, Shamir had sighed to her one time, before the war, before hell broke out in Fódlan. ‘ _I have a problem with your selective vision._ ’

‘ _Selective what-now?_ ’ Catherine had grunted. ‘ _You’re saying I need glasses?_ ’

 _‘If only it was that simple’_ , Shamir had answered and put her head in her hand.

Good Goddess, Catherine missed the way Shamir did that. She also missed the way Shamir's hair fell like a curtain, the way her jokes were constructed, the way she oiled her gloves and looked up on Catherine beneath her eyelids which caused Catherine’s belly to knot itself. A gaze that asked her ‘ _what do you think?_ ’ while the person behind it actually listened to the answer.

Now that she looked back, Rhea had never asked Catherine such. Because it hadn’t mattered what Catherine thought; what had mattered was that the rules of the Goddess were followed.

The smell of oils and smoke and blood carried on the breeze, a breeze that spread the flames further. From all corners of the city, the screams began, shrieks that outmatched the chaos of hatred within Catherine.

Fire was the punishment for the wicked, but Shamir was not wicked, the hundreds of thousands of people in this city were not wicked! This… was… _wrong_!

Catherine was not the type to run. It would have been more in line with herself to turn her hesitation to ammunition and turn Thunderbrand on the roaring beast behind her, but that was not something she could do. She couldn’t fight either side, but she couldn’t stand around and let the fire claim her, either. So that was why she got her shaking legs to move, and ran down the stairs from the castle palisade and down toward the city streets.

What could she even do? Bodies littered the streets where panicked people had attempted to jump from the windows of their homes, desperate to flee from the fate of burning. The valiant shine of pegasi dived down on the Empire’s army, and the Empire’s black pegasi with mages on their backs met them head-on.

Catherine was just a speck of dust on this battlefield. A meaningless deserter.

The shadows suddenly moved. They did not speak, but no arrow was sent for Catherine’s head this time either.

There was the sound of a trembling bowstring, and the projectile swished past Catherine and shot into one of the soldiers behind her. He fell to the ground with a gargle. Shamir’s aim was impeccable, as always. And so was Shamir herself. She stepped out of the shadows like a saint in her own right. Her fury, her stance, her eyes… She held a screaming baby close to her, her bow in her left hand, soot and blood over her face. And when she looked at Catherine, it was not the look of a non-believer. Her faith pulsated in the air, but it was faith of a different kind from Catherine’s.

“Hey, don’t shoot!” Catherine panted and threw Thunderbrand on the ground. “… Don’t shoot! I’m not—I _can’t_ —”

Shamir readied another arrow, up into the skies, and grounded one of the Pegasus knights. She didn’t say anything. The baby howled along with the people of Fhirdiad, and all Catherine saw was fire, fire on the wind, digging into the walls, roaring toward the skies.

Catherine knelt. She couldn’t stand anymore. Her head felt empty. The star that had guided her had been put out, and she was lost in the darkness.

This was her surrender.

“I can’t fight her”, Catherine said, her hands on the heated ground, her heart beating out of her chest.

Shamir stepped up to her, and her eyes burned like the buildings around her.

“Then get _them_ out of here.” She shoved the screaming baby into Catherine’s arms, gently but firmly.

In the next moment, Shamir was once again one with the shadows and smoke, a stalking hunter out for Rhea’s head. That should make Catherine’s arms move, to grab her sword and perform her duty…

She didn’t. She left Thunderbrand on the ground where it was and tore her gauntlet off to be able to shield the little baby with a soft hand. She kept the armor on her boots and her chest, as she kicked in doors and carried elderly on her back, lifted burning rubble out of the way, her childhood memory of the city working in her favor.

Yes, this she could do. There was fire in Fhirdiad, but there was also Thunder. A burning city was nothing compared to her might - she was Catherine, and she feared no force of nature, nor death by a soldier’s hand, be it of the Empire or the Church. If she’d have to die, she’d do it with a purpose—performing something worthy of the Goddess’ mercy.

Because between the roars of the Immaculate One, Catherine was certain that the Goddess was with her.

\---

Fhirdiad was a smoking pile of stone walls and a castle stained by ashes by the time the battle was over. Sunlight did nothing to make it prettier, but at least people had amassed on the hills around it and reunited with family and friends. Cries, laughter of relief… Some strangers even sought out Catherine and thanked her because she’d saved their grandfather or their toddler or other family members. That had happened a lot as a Knight of Seiros, but it felt different now. These had been _Catherine’s_ actions, not the Church’s.

She’d abandoned her armor with the emblem of the Church of Seiros. She didn’t want to have such an obvious mark on her. The empire might not look kindly upon anyone with the Saint's mark at this point, no matter their fine words of sparing the surrendered.

Catherine still cradled the little baby. She knew very little about babies – they were so soft and vulnerable and that frightened her to no end, so she avoided them. But none had claimed this baby yet, none had called out for a lost child that fit the look of this one. She’d searched all over, but everyone had merely shaken their heads. So Catherine just kind of held on as a physician listened to the baby's lungs and checked its skin for burns.

“That’s a strong one you got there”, the physician smiled at her. “Seems healthy as a pickle. What would someone like that be called?”

She was asking for the baby’s name, Catherine realized. She could go into the fact that this wasn’t her child, but that would just lead to more questions, and she wasn’t dealing well with conversations at the moment.

“Eshdral”, Catherine said, thinking of a Dagdan fruit Shamir had mentioned to her and let her taste. Of all the things to pop into her head—

“That’s beautiful”, the physician said and let the baby hold her stethoscope for a few moments before she moved on to the next person with injuries that needed to be checked out. Seemed like none of the survivors were too hurt, considering how calm the physician had been – then again, physicians were almost _always_ calm. Catherine was slightly creeped out by it, honestly.

She sighed and watched the plume of smoke move like a pillar to the heavens.

Rhea was dead, she realized. And Catherine had not gone down as her loyal knight, the way she’d always thought she would. No, she was fully alive, cooing baby in her arms, and she battled both regret and relief.

“Hey”, someone suddenly said, and Catherine turned her head to look at Shamir.

“Hey”, Catherine greeted her back. That was all sorts of weird, because Catherine had spent five years telling herself she hated Shamir like the plague, but now she regressed into what had been normal all that time ago.

“Edelgard will spare you”, Shamir said blankly. “I also spoke with Hubert. I’m not so sure he will stay his hand if you test him, so try your best to keep your head down.”

“Okay”, Catherine mumbled, stunned by the matter-of-fact tone in the woman she’d just witnessed held great capacity for anger.

They looked at each other for a few seconds, and the baby grabbed hold of Catherine’s shirt. Its warmth and weird movements were stressful, but also weirdly comforting.

“I guess I should thank you”, Catherine began. “For not shooting me, I mean.”

Shamir looked to the side. “Don’t mention it.”

Catherine looked back on the city and the pillar of smoke. If Rhea had surrendered, how many lives could have been spared? And how many would now fumble, lost in darkness like Catherine, because the Church as an institution no longer existed? Was the sacrifice of innocents justly made for such an institution to try to survive?

Questions she’d never asked herself before. It made her head hurt. She bent her neck, stared into the ground.

She’d shed the name of Cassandra because she’d detested what that person had been. She’d been an idealistic teenager, longing for a higher purpose than that of a noble… and now she was in the middle of her thirties, and still just like then, she considered the possibility to once again shed the name she wore, become someone else. Because now, yet again, she’d _changed_ and she detested what she had been, and she detested how lonely she felt.

“How did Rhea die?” Catherine asked. Not referring to her as ‘ _lady_ ’ left a disgusting taste in her mouth, but she powered through.

“Joint attack by Edelgard and the Professor”, Shamir answered, once again so matter-of-factly. “The war’s over.”

So it was. Catherine looked up into the sky, searching for the voice of the Goddess up there. She’d felt so sure she’d felt the Goddess’ blessing as she turned her back on the battlefield, but she didn’t feel any of that now.

“What will you do?” she asked, and Shamir shrugged and crouched before Catherine, looking down on the baby that restlessly waved its arms around.

“There’s always room in the world for a mercenary”, she said, and her face didn’t change. “You?”

Catherine shook her head.

Shamir sighed through her nose and let the baby grab a locket she’d fished from her pocket. “Why haven’t you given the kid to someone?”

“It would seem that their family is dead”, Catherine stated. “I’ve asked everyone.”

“I found it as it was held by a corpse, sure, but there are plenty of families that could take care of it anyway. Or orphanages.”

Catherine agreed, but she also resented the idea. Sure, she could give the baby to some random person, but how could she make sure that they treated a child right? This kid had been through enough.

“I named them Eshdral”, Catherine told her, feeling pretty stupid as she did, but that had Shamir give her one of her small smiles.

“Like the fruit? Why?”

“Yeah, well—you weren’t around to give input”, Catherine shot back, like they were bantering partners once again.

Shamir chuckled. “My mistake. Although _'Thunder Catherine and Eshdral the Fruit_ ' sounds like quite the fearsome duo.”

Catherine flushed. Shamir and her teasing was one thing, but the heat that spread over her throat was mostly out of shame, because she still couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t supposed to be there. Wasn’t supposed to be alive. She’d have to push that aside for now. The baby needed some food, first of all. And second of all, a bed and clothes and toys—what else did babies need? Swords?

And what did _Catherine_ need? What could she do? Fighting was the only thing she was good at, and everyone she'd considered a friend was dead; all except one. Catherine looked up, and before she could think much further, she extended a hand.

“Shamir”, she said, somewhat somberly. “I’m... glad to see you.”

Shamir arched her brows, but she reached to take Catherine’s offered hand, her gloves soft against Catherine’s skin.

“Same to you, partner.”

The word warmed her chest, pushed the loneliness out of her heart. She was still without a guiding star in the darkness, but shame and fear wasn't as powerful when she once again hid herself behind the wall of a purpose. She could fight, and that's what she'd do.

“Would you mind if I tagged along for your mercenary ride for a bit?”

Shamir smiled again, her smug smirk that was like a beautiful taunt. She'd never smiled that way to anyone but Catherine.

“No”, Shamir answered. “I think I could manage.”

\---

It was the middle of the night when Catherine sat up straight in her beddings. Eshdral hadn’t cried, and they were in an inn so she didn’t need to fear predators or bandits… And yet she was all sweaty and her hand had drawn her dagger, aimed it at the thin air in front of her.

Shamir was a light sleeper. She sat up too and drew her bow, aimed it at the same thin air as Catherine. They sat like that for a few heartbeats, before Shamir hissed a ‘ _what is it?_ ’, and Catherine lowered her dagger.

“Nothing”, she said. “I just—I dreamt. Rhea was—”

She quieted. The dream slipped through her fingers, and she couldn’t place it. Had Rhea been in peril with a knife at her back, or Shamir? Or had Shamir been the one to _hold_ the knife? Maybe the other way around— _goddess_ , why couldn’t her heart stop pounding?

Shamir frowned and lowered her bow.

“Rhea’s dead”, she stated with such infuriating indifference.

“I _know_ ”, Catherine yelled, then lowered her voice when she realized the risk of waking Eshdral. “That doesn’t matter in dreams, does it?”

Shamir bowed her head in a show of regret and placed a careful hand on Catherine’s shoulder. They slept close to one another so they could push the other when it was their turn to comfort Eshdral in the middle of the night – or that was how it’d started. Now they used one another as pillows and warmth and for one or two careful, exploring kisses.

“I’m sorry”, Shamir said.

Catherine put her dagger back in its sheath and shook her head. She was close to crying, and she couldn’t figure out exactly why. She held back, and it felt like a thick lump of mashed potato high up in her chest and in her nose.

“I betrayed her”, she said with a shaky breath.

“It must be hard”, Shamir nodded, and that was somehow more annoying than her starting to argue in which ways Rhea had been wrong.

“What do _you_ know?” Catherine said and gripped the duvet in her clenched fists. “You’ve never known loyalty.”

“No”, Shamir agreed. “I haven’t. But I see that it’s hard for you.”

“I should have died with her”, Catherine continued, Shamir's reassurance going right over her head. “I should have died.”

Shamir was as stoic and quiet as ever. Her hand remained on Catherine’s shoulder. It was a slow process, but the guilt inside her blended with something else. The realization that if she had died, she’d never have known the special joy that was Shamir’s hand on her cheek and lips. She’d never have felt the proud sensation when she saw Eshdral do something smart that all babies did (but was somehow very super special for one’s own kid), like drop a spoon and look down with a ‘ _huh, so that’s what gravity is_ ’-face.

Then again, if what Rhea had said about punishment of the wicked was true, then Catherine may never know the gentle warmth of the Goddess’ realm, so in _not_ dying, had she missed out on that chance forever?

“I feel like shit”, Catherine finally admitted.

“It’s all right”, Shamir assured her, and put her arm around Catherine’s shoulders.

They sat like that for goodness knew how long, until Catherine finally decided it was time to lay down again, but she didn’t want Shamir to move her arms. She fell asleep with a comforting breath down her neck, and she could close her eyes without seeing the past go up in flames before her.

\---

They were pretty deep in Dagda before Shamir finally confronted her. Catherine had thought about doing it first, but always hesitated. Sure, they’d kissed and more, and they basically had a kid together. They travelled the world alongside one another and Catherine _definitely_ had romantic feelings burning at the center of her heart for this woman. And yet it took them months to talk about it.

“So”, Shamir started the conversation as she peeled grapefruit in front of their campfire. “Are we a couple, Catherine?”

“I don’t know”, was Catherine’s honest answer to that. “I love you, sure, but I don’t know.”

Shamir arched her brows and rested her head in her hand, grapefruit forgotten. “You don’t know if you love me”, she repeated.

“That’s not what I said”, Catherine said and raised her arms defensively. “I _do_ love you, all right? It’s just that I’m kinda scared I can’t love you the same way I loved Rhea, you know?”

"That's fine. I don’t want you to.”

Catherine must have misheard her. “I'm—Wait, what?”

Shamir closed her eyes and shook her head. “I don’t want you to worship me”, she said. “I just want you to respect me. You shouldn’t bend over backwards and ignore your own thoughts to please me, or hang by my every word. I want your love, not your undying loyalty.”

Catherine opened her mouth, then closed it again. For her, those things were very tightly woven together, it was difficult (almost _impossible_ ) to separate them. But Catherine _was_ happy with Shamir, no doubt about that. Catherine had even begun to act more like herself these last few months, with bombastic speeches and dramatic swordplay, stirring trouble and laughing heartily about it—and that was all thanks to Shamir, and Eshdral of course. Catherine already bragged about her kid and partner to anyone who would listen – maybe she could brag about her kid and _spouse_ instead? Really, it wasn’t that much of a stretch.

“Catherine”, Shamir said and leaned forwards, spilling grapefruit juice on her fingers. “I’d appreciate your answer.”

“Yeah”, Catherine said, a bit dazed, still. “You’ve got it. My love, I mean. Oh, that’s really cheesy, sorry—”

Shamir wasn’t exactly a romantic, but she smiled her smile unique to Catherine and shook her head. “You have mine, too. Cheesy.”

Catherine chuckled. “So I guess that answers that. We’re a couple! Watch out, world, because we’re unstoppable! Our love will conquer all!”

“Okay, that’s enough cheese”, Shamir said, retracting back to stoicness and reaching one half of her fruit to Catherine. “Grapefruit?”

Catherine took the fruit with a little wiggle of her eyebrows. “Thank you, my dear. My love? My darlingest!”

Shamir rolled her eyes. “Don’t push it. We’re a couple, sure. It’s no big deal.”

“It’s a _huge_ deal”, Catherine objected and laughed. She hadn’t felt this relieved in so long, she even felt _giddy_. She leaned over to where Eshdral lay on his beddings and kicked and wiggled the way babies did. The kid looked into her face with eyes wide with curiosity.

“Hey Eshdral”, Catherine declared. “You have two moms now! Like officially! What do you think of that?”

Eshdral babbled something and kicked his feet with emphasis, and Catherine grinned at Shamir.

“I think we got approved!”

Shamir shook her head, but she smiled that smile again. The smile that was only for Catherine.


End file.
